Grey Slush Traditions
by hailingstars
Summary: Peter's first Christmas as a Stark doesn't go as planned, because when does it ever? And also, he's on thin ice. Part 2 of Mask series. One-Shot.


Grey Slush Traditions

Peter avoids stepping into the piles of grey slush as he crosses the street. These left behinds from last week's snow are cold and miserable if they get inside his shoes, and ugly to look at now that it's no longer white. Nothing ever stays fresh for very long in the city, least of snow, but he's still smiling. It's a permanent fixture on his face these last couple of days, and not even having freezing cold water splash him from a grey slush related puddle as a car drives by can wipe away his good mood.

He joins the crowd of people descending into the subway station, only to be glared at, only to be shoved a few times as people clamor to make it through the threshold. He doesn't mind that, either.

The hustle and bustle, the extra foot traffic along with bad weather creating awful road conditions only points to one conclusion.

It's Christmas in the city, in _his_ city, or more specifically his home district, Queens, and this year he knows that it's Christmas and it makes all the difference. Four lonely holidays passed by inside metal walls, without him really knowing or caring which days were assigned to be special. Looking back now, Peter's glad he didn't. Glad keeping track of time had been nearly impossible. It would have made his life lonelier.

That's something Peter hopes he'll never experience again. Being locked up and lonely and it's hard to imagine ever going back to living that way as he rides the subway back from Queens to Manhattan, as he makes the short walk from the station to his building, and finally, as the elevator doors open to reveal the Stark penthouse. His home.

Except it doesn't look anything like it did when he first moved in. This version looks as if it were spat out of a Christmas catalogue, and practically was. Tony is making a bigger deal about Peter's first Christmas as a Stark than anyone else, and he hired decorators. The night Pepper came home from work and walked into the winter wonderland on page seven of the catalogue she subscribes to, Peter made popcorn and enjoyed the bickering that followed. No winners were declared, but Peter is sure Pepper would have come out on top if Tony hadn't pulled the 'our poor, deprived son' line.

"He's never even believed in Santa," Tony told her, and it's true. He never did. Richard didn't entertain myths like gods and holiday fairy tales, but Tony didn't believe in Santa when he was younger, either. That goes conveniently unmentioned.

And now he's thinking it over, Peter suspects Tony is the original source of his holiday cheer, not just his freedom from New Life. His determination to get him to celebrate, and his ridiculous insistence on going overboard have worked together to him get hyped. He frowns as he puts his coat, hat and scarf in the closet. He's been tricked.

He finds Tony and Pepper in the living room, standing next to the giant Christmas tree next to the windows and catches them in the act of adding more presents to the pile.

"I said no more presents," says Peter, with a whine.

His anxiety is already building about opening the already existing ones. It will take hours, and he's got a feeling he knows what's in most of them. Clothes. Both Tony and Pepper have expressed their concern about the rate he re-wears his clothing all in the same week, but he can't help it if he just really likes some of his t-shirts.

"Just be thankful there isn't a giant stuff animal sitting next to the tree," says Pepper, stacking a box wrapped with shining blue paper on top of an even bigger box.

"But that would be so awesome."

And decidedly less stressful than having four eyes watching him open a million and one boxes on Christmas morning.

"You two deserve each other," says Pepper. Her and Tony exchange looks that tell Peter he's missing something. She adjusts the stack, and when she's sure nothing is going to topple over, steps away from it, before turning back to Peter. "Are you sure you don't have any requests? It isn't too late to make a list."

"There isn't anything I want that I don't already have," says Peter, as he sinks into the couch cushions. He doesn't add what he's thinking. That there isn't anything he wants that he can't just order off Amazon with one of Tony's credit cards any day of the year.

"So, how's crime in Queens?" asks Tony, and Peter perks up and forgets all about present anxiety and credit cards.

This is a topic he's fascinated with. Obsessed with even, and it's become tradition for Tony and Pepper to share in his obsession every night when he returns home from his walks.

"Not bad tonight," says Peter. "Just this guy who tried to steal a purse from this old lady, but there was a cop nearby so I let him know."

It kills him to do it. To point a cop in the right direction when he could be taking care of the thief himself, in a more fun and creative way. But he suppresses the urge every time. Locks it up and throws away the key, kicks the safe to some back corner of his mind to let in rustle and wrestle around uselessly, waiting for the day it can break free and wreak havoc.

His face is too famous to become some street superhero, preying on petty criminals and making sure the neighbor bully doesn't make off with the lunch money. It's his famous face and his famous, paranoid, worried stand-in father who makes it impossible. If he starts smacking down criminals with his powers, Tony won't let him go on walks alone anymore, Dr. Walter's recommendation or not.

And besides the threat of losing his freedom, Peter doesn't want to worry Tony, or disappoint him. Never wants to do anything to cause a serious argument. Not when Tony has already done so much for him.

Tony chuckles at his story and shares another look with Pepper he can't understand. There's nothing funny about an old woman nearly losing her purse on Christmas Eve Eve, but Peter lets it pass as typical parental weirdness as he withdraws to his bedroom. He collapses on his couch and scrolls through his phone, still wearing his smile.

Even with all the presents he didn't ask for and doesn't want to spend time opening, he's glad he's at least home for Christmas, his family is home for Christmas and tomorrow they will start a Stark family tradition of spending Christmas Eve on the couch, watching Christmas movies.

Or at least that's the plan.

Was the plan. Nothing really ever works out the way it's talked about weeks before.

"You're leaving?" asks Peter, later that evening. He's standing in Tony and Pepper's bedroom, watching Tony as he shoves clothes into a duffel bag and Pepper sits up in their bed with a laptop open and her glasses on.

"Afraid so," says Tony. He puts the final shirt in the bag and zips it shut. "Cap says it looks pretty bad. They need everyone."

"But it's Christmas Eve tomorrow."

He's painfully aware of how childish it sounds as the words leave his mouth, as he follows Tony with his duffel bag to the door of the bedroom. Holidays are just like any other days to the types of disasters and tragedies that require the Avenger's attention. They don't respect holidays, just like crime in Queens, but he can't help feeling disappointed.

And a bit jealous. Tony gets to risk his life as Iron Man on Christmas while Peter is stuck on the sidelines. Doesn't seem fair.

"I know," says Tony. He puts a hand on his shoulder. "But it's just a day, and we can celebrate when I get back."

"Which will be…" calls Pepper, her face still behind her computer screen and her voice unamused. At least he has her to share in his disappointment, but still, it's starting to feel like a Christmas from before. Richard never stuck around for the holidays, either, leaving him and his mom to slum it out for themselves.

"Soon," says Tony, then returns his gaze to Peter. "Be good. Stay out of trouble… I feel like I'm missing one, there's one more right?"

Peter blinks at him, also unamused, and Tony squeezes his shoulder.

"Back before you know it."

He watches him disappear down the hallway. Unfair. On all levels, but mostly, it's unfair for Tony to get him so excited about Christmas only to abandon him and Pepper to leave on a mission. It only adds to his frustration that he can't really be angry with Tony. It's not his fault the world needs Iron Man at the same time him and Pepper just need the man under all the armor.

"You still have me," says Pepper. "We can watch the movies Tony won't let us watch when he's here."

Peter turns to face her. There's only one series that comes to mind. "…Harry Potter marathon?"

"I'll wear my Ravenclaw PJs."

Except she doesn't, and they don't.

Not a single note of the classic Harry Potter theme music plays before it's clear from too many phone calls, text messages and emails Pepper receives that their backup plan isn't happening.

"I'm so sorry Peter," she says, as she's grapping her work bag and shoving her cell phone in the pocket of her suit jacket. "Apparently there's a dumpster fire only I can put out, but it won't take long."

This time he doesn't bother informing her that it's Christmas Eve, and no one who isn't literally trying to save the world from destruction should have to work on a holiday. It's still so completely obvious what day it is by all the decorating that now mocks him in both Tony and Pepper's absence.

Just any other day spent alone.

His eyes drift to the closet where his coat waits for him. Might as well take a walk. Clear his head. It's what he's supposed to do, when he's feeling restless or thinking thoughts he shouldn't think, per Dr. Walters advice. After suiting up to face the cold, he pauses for a second near the elevator, debating on whether he should grab his web-shooters from his bedroom. He decides against it.

* * *

Peter should have stayed home. Where it's warm.

Where Pepper is probably just now, finally, getting back from whatever Stark Industries emergency that called her away. Peter pictures her entering the living room, asking FRIDAY where he went, and shrugging her shoulders after learning he's out on one of his walks. She settles down on the couch, she cues the movie, maybe browses through some channels while she waits for him to come home.

She waits for him, and he never shows up.

Or at least that's how Peter imagines the night going currently.

There's water under the ice he's lying across. It's moving around underneath him, and there's just a thin layer separating him from the freezing water below. He shouldn't have looked down, so he corrects his mistake by lifting his chin and setting his eyes straight ahead on the mission, the one that brought him crawling across the iced over pond. A whining, scared Beagle is stuck in the distance, where the ice is broken and there's only water, and the dog is struggling, her front paws trying in vain on slippery ice to lift the bottom half of her body out of the water.

Behind him, a mother and her daughter are standing safe on land. He can't see them from here, but the sight of the little girl holding a leash and an empty collar is still ingrained in his memory. It's what convinced him to remove his coat, hat and scarf and propel himself out on this ice. Despite the mother's insistence it isn't safe, it isn't worth him risking himself since emergency has been notified, he went out anyway.

He couldn't help it.

That rattling box he's thrown in the back of his mind for Tony's sake has sprung open with a vengeance. He can't suppress it anymore. This compulsion to save people, or in this case, to save the dog will not be silenced.

"Well you were right, kid. This is pretty stupid."

Peter pauses at the familiar voice, spares a look behind him and is surprised by the relief that floods him when he sees Happy standing at the pond's edge. Then horror. Happy didn't come alone. Pepper stands next to him and Peter recognizes that look. He's seen it aimed at Tony more than a few times. Just his luck. When he called Happy before sliding out on the ice, leading with the comment he's about to do something stupid, he never expected him to bring Pepper along. Just a heated car and some blankets, because there's a part of him that knows there's only one way this ends.

"Uh, hey guys," says Peter. He breaks his stare with them and puts it back on the dog. "G-glad you could make it."

It must look ridiculous. Him laying belly up in the middle of a frozen pond with the beagle still a few feet up. He's already freezing, already shivering with chattering teeth, and he's anticipating how much worse the cold will be once the ice breaks and he's plunged into the water below.

"Turn around and come back," says Pepper, calm and steady. "A rescue crew is on the way, and they will help the dog."

The beagle whines louder as it's left paw slips off the ice. In the struggle to regain her hold, more chucks of ice break apart and disappears into the water. There's more struggling, louder yelping, but eventually she finds another good grip.

"I can't," says Peter.

"Peter Benjamin Stark," says Pepper, and the tone brings instant dread. Just like the look from earlier, it's something usually reserved for Tony and he knows what follows.

"I'm sorry I can't." Peter says it fast, before Pepper has a chance to order him off the ice. "She might not be able to hold on for that long."

Happy lets out a curse word under his breath, him and Pepper exchange whispers, and Peter sets his eyes back to the beagle.

He breathes in deep, then exhales a shaky, visible breath, gaining some courage to forget about the cold water under him, Pepper, Happy, the little girl and her mother behind him and focus on inching his way up to the dog. His crawl forward continues, numb arms rubbing on ice, numb fingers that's forgotten what it's like to be warm, but it's worth it. Now he's close enough to reach out, to lift the beagle out from the water, and that's where the real trouble starts.

The ice here is thinner and shifting his weight to lift the beagle will break it. Almost for sure, but then, without warning, that's no longer the issue. He can hear it. The ice cracking, the small fractures that will soon, within seconds give way to bigger ones, that will lead to him in the water no matter how he goes about his next movement. He thinks fast, stretches out his hands and grabs the dog with both his hands, and just as predicted, the sheet of ice supporting him breaks away.

Every drop of water is razor sharp as it cuts into his skin, as he and the beagle go under and become completely submerged in frigid water.

His feet hit the bottom of the pond and he takes a sharp gasp of breath when his head emerges, water leveling off just up to his chin, then remembers the struggling dog in his arms. He lifts the beagle above his head and ignores the pain radiating through his muscles, ignores whatever Happy and Pepper are shouting at him, as he wades forward through the water and eventually tearing through the unbroken ice near the pond's edge.

He drops to his knees when he gets to solid ground, carefully places the dog inside his discarded coat, and promptly collapses face first into the grass and dirt. Someone grabs his shoulder and repositions him to so his eyes are facing the sky instead of the ground, and Pepper's look of absolute worry and concern is the last image he sees before everything becomes fuzzy, before he's experiencing his life through flashes of consciousness.

It's Pepper attempting to dry his hair with Happy's suit jacket. It's Happy muttering more complaints under his breath, words that slip away before Peter can hold on to them long enough to process what's being said. It's his eyes opening and being in a parked ambulance with a heavy blanket on top of him and in dry clothes he doesn't remember putting on. He doesn't know how long he's lying there, but everything starts coming back into focus when the warmth spreads over him.

"He'll be fine," the words come from an unfamiliar voice hovering somewhere above him. "Take him home, make sure he stays warm. He wasn't in there long enough to do any lasting damage."

"Thank you," says Pepper.

Happy helps him sit up and stand. His first couple steps are shaky, but as they walk back to the car, Peter still wearing the blanket they gave him, he starts come back, fully back and by the time he's sitting in the back of the car with Pepper on the other side, he finally finds words.

"Is the dog okay?"

Pepper releases a deep, tired sigh. "Her name was Milly and yes, she's fine. The family sends their thanks."

Peter can't even feel properly relieved about Milly being okay when more disappointment sinks in. This time at himself, and this time, prompted by the look on Pepper's face. He's failed. He did the thing he's not supposed to do, put himself at risk and he let that insane urge to need to be the hero take over. He's no longer looking forward to Tony's homecoming. He doesn't want to be confronted with disappointing him, too and the consequences he's sure that will follow.

Losing what little independence he's gained thanks to Dr. Walters insisting.

"I'm sorry," says Peter, after a long silence.

"No you're not. You're an idiot like Tony," says Pepper, then turns and offers a smile. "But lucky for you I have a soft spot for idiots."

They get back to the penthouse, and he learns Pepper is just as good at being a mother-hen as Tony. After he changes out of the plain white t-shirt and grey sweatpants the rescue team gave him, he's detained to the couch with a few blankets piled over him. They finally do put on Harry Potter, watching it as they sip hot chocolate and make comments about the movie. Peter lasts two of the movies until his eyelids get too heavy to stay open.

* * *

Peter wakes up to a hand on his back, shaking him and a voice, yell-whispering his name. He blinks his eyes open and he's met with Tony. He's kneeling next to the couch and the dark living room behind him slowly comes into focus as Peter is pulled further and further away from his dreams. They were nice ones, too. Filled with beaches and sunshine. He wants to go back, but first, he needs to know.

"Tony? What're you doing here?"

"I live here," he whispers again. "And keep your voice down, will you? Don't wanna wake up Pepper."

Peter's eyes shift to the recliner where Pepper is curled up and fast asleep. Like he was just moments ago and wants to be again, even if he is glad to see Tony is back and alive.

"I mean," says Peter, adjusting his volume. "What're you doing back so soon?"

"It's Christmas."

"But the mission – oh, wait," says Peter, trailing off and cringing. He sinks his head further down into the pillow at the thought of Tony rushing home because of him, because he decided he needed to play superhero instead of waiting for the emergency team to arrive. "I didn't –"

"I was already on my way home when Pepper called about you almost turning into a human popsicle."

Peter tenses up as he waits for it. For Tony to cancel his walks around the city. He expects a lecture, or at least a very clever jab about his stupidity. Maybe even a comment about how him and Steve have new common ground, but when none comes, Peter goes back to being relaxed, wishes he were back in his dreams.

"Then you're waking me up why?"

"It's Christmas," Tony repeats, as if the answer were simple, as if he should be able to comprehend why a grown adult is so excited about the prospect of Christmas he feels the need to wake up a peacefully sleeping teenager. "Time to open your gift."

Peter groans and turns his face into his pillow. "Too tired. Too many."

"Well I'm lenient. Just open one, and you can go back to sleep."

Peter takes a second to lift his face out from the pillow and stare at him. He's still dressed in the under armor for the Iron Man suit, leading Peter to the probably correct conclusion he's just now getting back. Seems suspicious for his first act upon coming home to be waking him up, rather than to change clothes and head to bed himself. He narrows his eyes at him, to express his distrust of this entire situation, but as it turns out, despite all of Tony's previous lectures about always having a choice, in this case, Peter doesn't have one.

Tony stands up and grabs Peter's arm, pulling him off the couch and away from the warm blankets he never wants to be parted from. He makes a move to dive back on the couch, but Tony catches him around the stomach and course corrects, pushing him towards the elevator.

"You're kidnapping me again," says Peter.

"Literally impossible to do now I've got custody," says Tony. He punches the button that will take them to the workshop, and it occurs to Peter how incredibly strange it is they left the living room where all the presents are, to go open a present.

It's in this moment his desire to go back to sleep is replaced by excitement. He hasn't been down to the workshop with Tony for months. Lately he's always had some excuse, and if his present is down here instead of sitting under the tree, he understands why. He wants the elevator to move faster, and when the doors finally open he darts out from it, looking wildly around the room. When he doesn't see anything present-shaped or out of the ordinary, his eyes fall back on Tony, who's watching him with a smirk.

"Where is it?"

"I don't know," says Tony. "You may be right. Maybe we should just go to sleep, wait until morning."

Peter glares and crosses his arm.

"Alright, alright."

He gives FRIDAY a command and there's circle opening up inside the floor. A steel cylinder raises out from it, but it isn't until the cylinder opens, until two sheets of curved metal slide backwards and reveals what's inside, that Peter sees the most brilliant shade of red, the most beautiful present he's ever gotten. It's a suit hanging on metal wires, one with the same design he'd described months earlier with words Harry pulled out of air and put down onto paper. Just a drawing of a dream Tony has spun into reality.

"This… this is Spider-Man," says Peter. He stares up at it and reaches out his hand to run it along the material.

"No that's just Spider-Man's suit," says Tony. "You're Spider-Man, although if we're getting technical it should still be Spider-Kid."

Peter ignores the last comment as he pulls the mask off the top wire and holds on to it, turning back towards Tony. "You can't buy this on Amazon."

"Uh, no. I'd be very concerned if that were the case."

"…you made this for me?" asks Peter. He can't decide where to look, at the Spider-Man suit, the mask in his hands, or at Tony. "You're letting me join the Avengers?"

"No. No Avengers for you yet," says Tony. "I figured you could start in the junior leagues… like taking care of the little guy. Someone I know keeps telling me the street crime in Queens is getting pretty bad…"

Nothing sounds better to Peter. He can't pinpoint the best part about this gift, doesn't know or care to debate whether it's Spider-Man or Tony giving him his blessing to be a vigilante protecting the streets of Queens or if it's receiving this gift when he was sure he was going to get in some kind of trouble for going out on that ice. He gets to be himself. Gets an outlet. He looks back at Tony. This doesn't come without sacrifices for him. Mainly, his worry, his over-worrying, and it grants Peter with a new sense of responsibility.

To be careful, extra careful and to not take this for granted. He doesn't want to make Tony or Pepper worry, never wants to see that look Pepper's face again, and that's where his excitement over being Spider-Man crashes and burns.

"But Pepper…"

"Pepper knows about it, and she understands. She doesn't like it, but she understands. I think if you're frozen adventure today proved anything it's that we wouldn't be able to stop you. This is part of you… like Iron Man is part of me. This suit will just keep you safe and make sure you're nice and toasty next time you decide to go swimming in the middle of winter."

Peter pauses to wonder what that conversation was like, or even, what the conversation was like when Pepper realized for the first time Iron Man wasn't going away, that she's going to marry someone who flies around and constantly puts his life at risk. If it ever was an argument between them, it's clear where she stands. Accepting it, at least for now, and Peter is happier for it.

He can't imagine a world where it's just him and Tony in the penthouse, and him alone when Tony gets called away for business or with the Avengers.

"We don't deserve Pepper."

"Nobody deserves Pepper," amends Tony.

Peter looks back up at the suit, feeling a lot less like he's looking at fine material and more like he's looking at his future. "This is the best gift… thanks, Tony."

"Anytime, kid," says Tony. "I figured you could try it out this weekend at the compound, before you go out on the streets. Warm up a little bit."

Peter beams and nods his head. This suit, this new and dangerous activity Tony is allowing him to do, he knows it's going to come with guidelines and rules and probably supervision, but for now, he doesn't care. It's early on Christmas morning. The gift is fresh and new, and they're all together, even if Pepper is still sleeping.

After he's done admiring the suit and thanking Tony over and over again, he can only imagine all the time and effort it takes to create a Tony Stark original, they go back upstairs. Since the couch or even his bed isn't calling for him anymore, they make Pepper breakfast and later as they eat together, they watch snow dancing around outside the windows, like they're sitting in the castle in the middle of snow globe.

Peter's theory about the boxes under the tree is proven correct when he starts opening them. Clothes. Less t-shirts with puns, more sweaters, more dress clothes that carry the promise of attending events where his usual casual attire won't cut it. He can't even be properly angry about Tony and Pepper using Christmas as an opportunity to take charge his wardrobe, not with the Spidey suit sitting ready down in the workshop, waiting for him to use it.

But for now Spider-Man can wait, because it's Christmas and they have new traditions to form. They sit in the living, ripped wrapping paper lying about everywhere and start out with Christmas movies, like they were supposed to do on Christmas Eve, but it isn't even thirty minutes into when Tony starts snoring. Knocked out cold on the same recliner Pepper spent the night on. Peter and Pepper look at each other at the same time, and she quietly asks FRIDAY to restart Harry Potter, where they left off the night before while snow continues to blow around outside the window. It's the greatest start to a new tradition.

* * *

A/N: It's been such a long time! I hope you guys have a great Thanksgiving, if you're in America and celebrated it, and please don't die if you're Black Friday shopping. I'm hoping to post the next fic in this series Monday, but it might be Tuesday, I don't know. It's turning out more angsty than I thought it was going to be, so I'll apologize in advance . Maybe someday I'll be able to write something that's completely fluff!

Thanks so much for everyone commenting on the final chapter of the main Mask story (Fan02, cargumentluv, waves, CatMon, Peacockgirl, Shannon K, Wisdomsqueen, and SongNoFound)

waves: there was no way I was leaving that monster unfinished, I was wayyy too attached to it. And lol, I hope your google search went fast, I'm sorry on my end for just assuming everyone knows when Thanksgiving is.


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